The Future
by Hello Kathryne
Summary: In which we look to the future for twelve campers. - Canon Couples - Set of six oneshots. - Complete - Harold/LeShawna, Lindsay/Tyler, Izzy/Owen, Bridgette/Geoff, Gwen/Trent, Courtney/Duncan
1. A Nightly Routine

The Future

Subtitle: Wouldn't That Be Nice?

--

One. Harold and Leshawna

Subtitle: They Write Books About This Sort of Thing

--

At night, the twenty four year old couple settled into a routine-- she would take the first shower, despite the fact that she used up most of the hot water, and he would get in soon after her, while she dried her hair, getting his halfway through before the water would run cold, but he would never complain.

She would then grab her laptop and start on papers-- she was in her last year of medical school-- and she had a lot of them to do. She wanted to be a child's psychologist.

He had just finished his last year of grad school-- he was working at an advertisement firm. It was a low ranking job but the pay was good and as the majority of Leshawna's paycheck was going towards medical school and taxes, he was grateful.

He would get in bed first, stretching his long legs out under the simply awful looking blue, floral print quilt the had laying on the bed in place of a comforter. He would then lean over to grab whatever book he was reading or whatever advertisement he needed to touch up before work the next morning.

After a while, Leshawna would close her laptop and come to bed. She had a habit of sleeping on top of the quilt, as she liked the feel of the hard-working ceiling fan on her skin.

The TV might be on, a small black TV with a built in DVD player-- about twenty inches, to whatever channel or show they would want to watch. Court TV or Discovery Health for Leshawna, the Sci-Fi channel, the History Channel or just the Discovery channel on Harold's end.

This particular night, however, the TV wasn't on.

--

Dogearing the page he had just finished reading, Harold closed his book and set it on his nightstand.

Turning his head, he smiled to see that his girlfriend of nearly eight years, (although there had been that year when it was a long distance thing, and then the two months in their senior year of college when they had broken up,) was fast asleep.

Leaning over, he opened the drawer on his nightstand. In it sat a little velvet box. Smiling, he shut the drawer and turned off his lamp.

Tomorrow would be a good day.


	2. A Delayed Schedule

The Future

Subtitle: Wouldn't That Be Nice?

--

Two. Lindsay and Tyler

Subtitle: Unless The Laker Game Was On.

--

Lindsay and Tyler continued their relationship after she was voted off. Without Heather around, she was free to do as she pleased, and what she aimed to please was the sweatsuit wearing psuedo athlete.

They would eat meals together, usually at irregular times like breakfast around noon, followed by lunch around four and dinner around eight or nine. They weren't morning people, so they went about life on a delayed schedule while on the resort-- waking up around around noon and going to bed around three in the morning, filling the late hours with movies and late swims in the resort's pool.

That is, unless some pointless sport game on-- his favorite was basketball. They were on occasionally, and then not even the most alluring of tasks could pull him away.

--

"C'mon, Tyler! Let's go swimming." Lindsay whined, leaning into his shoulder.

"After this game." He said, leaning forward on to his knees.

"But these games take forever." She said, crossing her arms sullenly.

"Tyler..." She sighed, standing and walking out of the room.

Tyler barely noticed, and wouldn't have noticed at all had not her heels clicked on the marble as she left.

--

Laying by the pool, Lindsay sighed. It was almost eight, so she should eat soon. But Tyler was still watching his precious game, most likely. She sighed again. She didn't get the appeal of the game-- it was just people running up in down with an orange ball.

Boring.

--

Returning back in around nine, she walked up to the television and turned off the game.

"Hey!" Tyler shouted, glaring at her. "It was the last five minutes of the game!"

"Big deal. Let's go get something to eat." She said, crossing her arms across her... ample chest. "These games are so boring."

"They are not!" He said, crossing his arms as well and standing. "They're great games and you should let me watch them!"

"Well, excuuuuse me for wanting to spend time with my boyfriend." She said, rolling her eyes and storming out of the room for the second time of the day.

Tyler sat back down, arms still crossed as he sunk deep into the couch cushions-- clearly pissed at the turn of events

--

"So, Belle, that what I mean. He's totally the cutest, sweetest guy as long as some stupid game isn't on the TV." Lindsay sighed, laying on the end of Beth's bed.

Beth narrowed her eyes, but then softened up. "It's Beth, and then make up with him and find something else to do while he's watching his games. It's not that hard, Lindsay."

"Wow, Beth. You're _really_ smart." Lindsay said, standing up. "Thanks a lot!" Smiling, she went out the door and towards the stairs.

Beth sighed and spread out on her bed, muttering. "About time."

--

Tyler had found his way to his former teammate, Geoff's room.

"...She's totally hot, you know?" He said, somewhat sheepishly, leaned forward on his knees. "But kind of.. slow. She won't let me watch basketball games or anything, though."

"Yeah," Geoff said, taking off his hat and setting it on his bedside table. "But that's just 'cause she wants to spend time with you, bro."

"Really?" Tyler asked, standing up. "But we spend all day together."

"Really, dude. She likes you, of course she wants to spend time with you." He said, almost cringing at the thought of how big a fool he had made of himself when he wanted to spend time with another camper.

"Oh, that's... awesome!" He said, "Thanks a lot, dude!" And with that, he left and started towards the stairs.

--

As Tyler was going to floor six from floor eight, and Lindsay was going from floor four, they ran into each other on the landing outside of the door to the rest of floor six.

"Ohmygod, Tyler. I am sooo sorry." She said, grabbing his hand.

"Wait, why are you sorry? I'm sorry!" He asked, puzzled.

"For ruining your game... why are you sorry?" She asked, equally as puzzled.

"For not spending time with you." He uttered.

Then, after a moment of silence, they both started laughing.

"Want to go grab a bite?" Tyler asked through the laughter.

"I'd thought you'd never ask!"

--

End. :D


	3. A Slightly Modified Tale

The Future

Subtitle: Wouldn't That Be Nice?

--

Three. Izzy and Owen

Subtitle: Magic Beans And Truth Machines

--

"Have I found you?" A twenty-seven year old Izzy said, crawling into the darkest part of the hall closet, laughing as she heard small, squeaky giggles from behind the clothes she was digging through.

"No!" The voices said as she opened the space between her winter coat and the long princess dress she had worn for halloween the year before. In the closet sat two little girls, five year old twins with baby soft red hair and large brown eyes.

"Natalie! I told you she'd look here!" Complained the slightly larger of the two.

"Sorry, Lena." Apologized the smaller one, sheepishly.

Over the years, her craziness had subsided. Her husband liked to joke that her body was just too old for the insanity. Her hair was finally tamed-- it's frizziness exponentially smoothed by age and little hands smashing it down constantly.

Scooping up the two little girls, who did what little girls do when picked up-- hook their little arms around their mother's neck and squirmed slightly.

"Are you two ready for bed?" She asked, looking at the clock-- 8:30.

Shaking their heads, their thin hair spread out around them in nearly identical motions. "No!"

Sighing, she smiled anyway. "Well, let's get you into your PJs, anyway." She said, taking them into their bedroom to change them.

Sitting on their beds-- a bunkbeds with matching pink and purple comforters-- pink was Lena's favorite color, and purple was Natalie's.

"Can you tell us a story?" Lena asked, crawling under her comforter without complaint.

"I want daddy to tell a story," Natalie added, crossing her legs on top of her bed. She was on the top bunk, and she looked over the rail to see her mom.

"Well, I'll go get him, but daddy is working, so we'll just have to see, okay?" She said, turning around and leaving the room.

"Okay," the twins said in unison, a look of disappointment growing on their faces.

--

When their father finally came in, twenty minutes later, they were both practically asleep. But upon seeing the familiar face, they both sat up, ridgid.

"Tell us a story!" Lena started, uncharacteristically leading.

"Jack an' the Beanstalk!" Natalie added, beaming.

Sighing, Owen sat down on a wooden chair, and smiling, started telling a... slightly modified tale-- of magic beans and truth machines, of brave young men and robotic armies.

This is why the girls liked his stories the best.

Smiling, Izzy watched from the door.

--

End. :D

btw-- Thanks for all the reviews! I'd love to have more like this-- there's an average of ten reviews per story! :D


	4. A Polaroid Camera

The Future

Subtitle: Wouldn't That Be Nice?

--

Four. Geoff and Bridgette

Subtitle: A Hit in Sweden

--

When the show broadcasted in Sweden, the two blondes of the bass team happened to be there.

It was years after the show's original run, seven or eight years, in fact. The two had fallen out of contact until their third year of college, when, coincidentally, they had both been in the same Marine Biology class. It had taken a few classes for them to realize it, as it was a red eye, eight-in-the-morning class that Bridgette had sheepishly slept through the first few times.

Geoff, still being his island stereotype, invited her to a party he was having that weekend. They hit it off and after reconnecting, they ended up being the sickeningly loving couple, holding hands on campus and taking each other home to the 'rents during breaks.

So, here they were, walking the streets of Stockholm when they passed by a small cafe-- one where the owners really did as they pleased and had put a large TV in the corner for their own amusement, when they recognized the program.

Or, to be more accurate, they recognized the faces. It was their own, although less aged. Geoff lacked the scruffy beard he had grown and Bridgette's hair was longer. But the characteristics were still the same, and laughing, Geoff pulled her in.

Sitting at the table, they went down the menu, Bridgette recognized what few Swedish words she knew as 'ham' and 'beef' and 'milk' and 'sandwich.' They were both more equipped for other European countries-- Bridgette had double majored in Marine Biology and Spanish, and minored in German, Geoff was somewhat fluent at French but was barely passable, luckily, in Swedish.

Laughing, they both ordered the only food on the menu which they were completely sure of what it was, and both ordered water to drink, their gazes moving between each other's faces and the television screen, smiling to each other as they watched themselves speak in dubbed Swedish that sounded similar to their own voices.

Coming back to them later, the brunette server looked to the screen and then to them. Laughing excitedly, she continued to babble in incomprehensible, even to Geoff, Swedish, as the two blondes smiled politely. Turning to the owner, the brunette said something else and the owner went to the back.

Coming back, it was revealed he had a polaroid camera. Gesturing between the two of them, he handed the server the camera and posed with the two of them. Then she handed the owner the picture and they repeated the process.

Watching the photos develop, he handed them a pen and they signed the photo, still smiling politely, laughing to themselves.

After this, they were left to eat their meal.

--

"That was weird," Geoff said, taking a bite of the sandwich.

Bridgette nodded in agreement, sipping her water. "...I still can't believe that bowl you made me." She said, laughing as it came onto the screen.

Geoff rolled his eyes and went to pay. His money was denied and he was told that it was 'on the house.'

They finished up their meal and left, the two hits in Sweden continuing on to Denmark and then to Germany the next day.


	5. A Grease Trap

The Future

Subtitle: Wouldn't That Be Nice?

--

Five. Gwen and Trent

Subtitle: Apples for the Innocent

--

Gwen had the unpleasant distinction of working at a diner while simultaneously going to college and having an internship at a design firm-- one she hoped to get a job from after she graduated.

What this translated into was that the twenty-year-old former goth was busy as possible, juggling school work, diner work, intern work, and the occasional hour or two of sleep. This left little time for anything, whether it be a hobby, reading, or her boyfriend, Trent.

The diner was a grease trap-- a fifty's era grease trap to be specific. Her skin stood blanched white against the bright yellow dress uniform. The dress was a contrast to her black shoulder-blade-length hair, tied up in a ponytail. Currently, her blonde roots were showing-- another stark contrast to the black dye in her hair, so she had side combed it and held it in place with a yellow headband which had come with the uniform but she rarely used.

Cutting apples at the counter as she was off to the side and there were no customers, she stared down at the surface. The countertops were made of chrome, an interesting feature to say the least. Looking down into her reflection, she noted her appearance.

Her features hadn't really changed in the past four years. Her face had grown somewhat longer, it seemed. She skin seemed the same light color, highlighted by the dark red lipstick she wore... well, she seemed to wear it every day now.

Her hair had grown and she had dyed out the shades of teal, suddenly one day. She felt like that was just kind of... childish, all of a sudden and used the black dye to coat all of her hair, resulting in a single tone hair color-- something she hadn't had since she was twelve when she first started streaking her then blonde hair with strange colors.

She then looked away and hurriedly peeled and chopped the rest of the apples before putting them in a mix, then pouring the mix into a pie crust. That was her job, making pies first, waitressing second.

Slipping the pie top over the tin, she brushed it with butter like she had been taught. Opening the oven, she had barely stuck the pie in the oven and began the timer when she heard a chime from the door.

She'd let Elle get to that one. She wasn't a main waitress, anyway.

"Gwen!" Called the voice of the afformentioned waitress, a former classmate in her basic mathematics class that she had to take the prior year.

"What?" She groaned, coming out into the main part of the restuarant. Upon seeing why she had been pulled from her spot, she smiled widely. She quickly made her way to the reason, her black heels clicking in time with the Elvis quietly crooning from the above speakers, fitting, as it was his old nickname.

Wrapping her arms over his shoulders, she kissed him on the cheek, smearing the immaculate lipstick she had applied. "What are you doing here?" She asked, a smile on her face.

"A guy can't come to see his girlfriend?" He asked, innocently. "I wanted some pie, too."

She was nearly his height with the heels, stepping back, arms still around him. They stayed like this for a while, then moving to sit down until the pie timer went off.

--

"I'll be right back." She said, standing as she went to get the pie out the oven. Slicing it, she put the largest slice onto a plate and grabbed two forks, bringing it out to him.

Setting it down, she slid back into the booth.

"Apple?" He asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"Of course, Trent."

Smiling anyway, they both started eating, catching up on each other's weeks, and well overshooting her hour long lunch break.

--

Ugh. This one was way dull.

Keep the reviews coming! The last chapter will update when I get to **43** comments.


	6. A Baseball Bat

The Future

Subtitle: Wouldn't That Be Nice?

--

Six. Duncan and Courtney

Subtitle: Blah Blah Blah

--

Courtney smiled weakly and picked up the reciever, and pressed it to her ear. "Hi, honey." Putting her hand to the glass, she looked down. "Two left months for you, three months for... Ella." She said, resting her other hand on her very pregnant stomach.

Duncan was in prison, though not for good reason. Four months ago today, a robber had broken into their home. Duncan, with all the sense of a man who was protecting his pregnant wife, had gone downstairs with a bat and, well, beat the shit out of him.

Upon checking the robber, the cops found that he had no weapon on him. He also had a fractured skull, three breaks in his arm, and a busted knee.

He, being the robber, sued for assault. Upon seeing his prior record, the messed up thing that America calls "the Justice System" sentenced him, although lightly.

"Wait, Ella?" He asked, smiling. They had two names picked out-- Ella, which was Courtney's grandmother's name, or Alexander, which was Duncan's father's name.

"Yeah," She smiled a little, patting her stomach. "I had an ultrasound on Friday. The baby's doing well, and I found out the gender. Mom and dad said they would help pay for the hospital bills and pay for your attorney bill. Oh! And..." She said, still going on.

To Duncan, he had sort of flitted out after she started talking about her parents, watching her cute animated face as the sound coming through the phone went 'blah blah blah.'

Leaning forward, close to the glass, he frowned. "I miss you. I miss being next to you, being able to see you for more than an hour every Sunday."

Courtney leaned forward, too. "I do, too."

Duncan caught up on her week as the guard watched the clock, and once the hour was up, Courtney was allowed to give him the things she brought-- a few books, and a carton of cigarettes. He swore he would quit, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Courtney managed to hold in the tears, like the other wives, until she reached the parking lot.

This would happen next Sunday, her only comfort being the little girl kicking in her stomach.

--

End.

See the subtitles? Find out:

What artist sings the songs?

What CD does each one come from?

First one to tell me all of them gets to choose the name of a key character in the next story I write. (Unless it's well... horrible. D:)

Yay.

Review, please!

ps. Kereea-- I am so sorry! I had this all written out even BEFORE I saw your review.


End file.
